


#1 Crush

by Eviscera



Series: Ouchy-Verse [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alley Sex, Bed head, Caffeine withdrawl, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eviscera/pseuds/Eviscera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even a god can be jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#1 Crush

    The day had started as most days tended to.  Clint woke at the crack of dawn, found Loki asleep half on-top of him, and lay there for a few hours, dozing until his alarm went off.  Loki stirred, threatened to turn the alarm clock into a block of ice (which never came to pass, no matter how many times he made that threat), and finally rolled off of Clint to huddle under the covers like an affronted cat.  Clint rolled out of bed, stretched, popped his back (Loki winced under the covers at the cracking sounds), then padded into the bathroom to start the shower.  
  
    After washing off the sleep and whatever else he’d managed to get on him in the night, Clint strode through the bedroom, still dripping water from his hair, to drag Loki from beneath the covers.  As always, he was loathe to rise from the warm blankets that smelled so heavily of his Hawk, but finally deigned to grace the day with his glorious presence.  
  
    “Oh my god, your hair,” was all Clint could manage with a straight face before he had to turn away to find clothes for the day.  
  
    Running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair, Loki sniffed disdainfully and rose from the bed.  “I do not remember asking you to take hold of it quite so enthusiastically as you did last night, my Hawk.”  
  
    “Actually, I’m pretty sure you did,” Clint argued, pulling a shirt over his head.  
  
    Inwardly, Loki pouted at the sight of Clint covering himself; he much preferred the evenings, when he could take those same clothes _off_ of him.  It was no wonder Loki was not a morning person, and why he wished for the nights to stretch longer.  God though he may be, he still hadn’t worked out how to change the course of the sun.  Well, maybe that would be his next little project.  
  
    He went to shower (and tame his unruly mane) with that idea still spinning in his head, while Clint went about his oblivious business finding something edible in the kitchen.  It was easier than it had been before to keep food in the house, now that he had someone around to remind him of such mundane things as grocery shopping.    
  
    The one staple that they could both agree on was coffee; Loki was addicted to the stuff and would happily drink that and nothing else if he thought he could get away with it.  Clint had surmised that they had nothing like it on Asgard, because Thor had a similar appreciation for it.  
  
    Well, regardless, with two caffeine addicts living in the same apartment, running out of coffee was always a possibility, and it seemed today would be that day.  
  
    “Shit,” Clint said, looking forlornly into the empty container.  He shook it, possibly hoping his own ‘magic jazz hands’ would kick in and more would appear.  A heavy sigh escaped him when nothing happened, which left only one course of action.  
  
    He was going to have to tell Loki they were out of coffee.  
  
    “ _Shit,_ ” he hissed when the sound of the shower cut off.  He heard Loki moving about, drying off, then his footsteps in the bedroom as he gathered his clothes for the day.  
  
    By the time he emerged from the bedroom, groomed as immaculately as ever, Clint was huddled on the stool at the counter, nervously spinning the empty coffee container between his hands.  Loki looked at him curiously, his eyes following the motions of his fingers before he fully took in what it was they were toying with.  Eyes flying wide, he speared Clint with a panicked look before stepping forward to peek inside.  
  
    “Is this a jest?” he asked.  
  
    “’Fraid not,” Clint said, shoving the jar across the counter.    
  
    It seemed Clint’s answer was not enough, and with a desperation that surprised the archer, he took to opening every single cupboard in the kitchen in search of some secret stash that might be hidden away.  Clint watched, bemused, as he even went so far as to look in the oven before giving up and standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms limp at his sides, a look of utter dejection on his face.  
  
    “It’s not the end of the world, you know,” Clint said.  “We can always get more.”  
  
    “But… coffee,” Loki intoned.  
  
    Clint raised his eyebrows and gave Loki a long, careful look.  “I think you might have a problem.”  
  
    “The problem is we have no coffee.”  
  
    He’d been with Loki long enough to know this was not a verbal battle he would win, so he decided not to wage it.  Instead, he stood from his seat and went to get his jacket.  He tossed Loki his own, and the god caught it on pure reflex, still trapped in his un-caffeinated stupor.  
  
    “C’mon, Princess, get your shoes,” Clint said, stepping into his boots.  
  
    “Wherever are we going?” Loki asked as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket.  
  
    “To get you your coffee, where else?”  
  
  
  
    Sitting in the passenger seat of Clint’s car, Loki watched the scenery pass outside of the window, still mourning the loss of his morning cup of coffee.  Clint had stopped worrying and was now only amused that he seemed to be taking it so badly.  There were so many worse things than running out of coffee.  It was almost endearing that something so mundane could bring the god this level of despair.  Luckily, it was something easily remedied, as coffee was to be had on practically any street corner.  
  
    Well, he wasn’t going to just any street corner.  
  
    Loki blinked around at their surroundings when Clint finally parked, and noticed with some surprise that he’d come to a stop before a very familiar coffee shop in a very familiar part of the city.  
  
    “Oh…,” he said, blinking out the window, at the very spot he’d first seen his Hawk after returning to Midgard.  
  
    “I uh… I figured I owed you a cup of coffee.  I kinda ruined the last one,” Clint said haltingly, eyeing the shop-front warily.  
  
    Loki turned to him then, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.  “Yes, I suppose you did,” he said.  
  
    It wasn’t too terribly busy inside the shop, for which Clint was grateful, as he’d never felt comfortable surrounded by strange people in a place he’d never been.  He found his eyes scanning the room, assessing the threat level, noting every point of entry and exit, and gauging the relative distance to each.  It all took less time than for the door to close behind them, and by that time, Clint had run through every scenario he could think of and had come up with contingencies for each.    
  
    Loki was watching him with an oddly intent look on his face, and Clint realized he must have hit one of the god’s more obscure triggers.  He found it horribly enticing when Clint went into what he’d come to think of as ‘bodyguard mode’.  He didn’t pretend to understand it, he just took it as part of Loki’s own predatory psyche and left it at that.  
  
    “I trust we are not about to be attacked by the barrista,” Loki said, a teasing lilt to his voice.  
  
    Clint gave him a flat look and a shove to the shoulder in the direction of the tables.  “Go find us a seat,” he said.  
  
    Giving him a side-eyed glance, Loki frowned.  “Dare I trust my coffee in your hands?”  
  
    “I think I know by now how you like your coffee,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.  
  
    Loki held his gaze for a few moments more before deciding he could _probably_ trust Clint to get it right, and went in search of a suitable table, shooting glances over his shoulder on the way.  Clint simply stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, and silently promised himself that he would never allow the coffee to run out again, if this was Loki’s behavior without it.  
  
    The line wasn’t very long, but it soon became clear it wouldn’t be a short wait when the people ahead of him rattled off a litany of words he was fairly certain were made up just to make ordering coffee at these kinds of places as confusing as possible.  He was idly reading the various signs hung on the walls when the sudden jarring impact of a body against his snapped him out of his thoughts.  Looking down, all Clint saw at first was blonde hair and tanned skin, wide blue eyes looking up at him in embarrassment.  
  
    “Oh, I am _so_ sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the girl hastened to apologize.  
  
    Clint blinked and looked around him, at the nearly empty space save for the person in line in front of him.  “Uh, it’s no problem,” he said.  “Nothing broken, right?”  God, he hoped not.  She hadn’t so much run into him as bounced off of him, she was _tiny_ , probably had bones like a bird.  
  
    “No, nothing broken,” she giggled, and Clint had to fight the wince at the sound of her voice.  “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”  
  
    “I don’t exactly come here often,” he said, not wanting to be rude.  
  
    Across the room, Loki was gazing idly out the window, watching the people pass by, the traffic in the street, and let his mind wander.  It seemed strange to think they’d come full circle since the last time they were here.  It wasn’t so very long ago that he’d been struggling with the idea that his Hawk felt such hatred for him, so much that it eclipsed all other feelings he might have.  Truly the lowest he’d ever fallen.  
  
    Well, no more.  He could finally say that he was content now, and Clint at least seemed to be.  It was no small thing, his contentment.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been…  
  
    All thought came to an abrupt halt when he happened to glance across the room, to see Clint in conversation with a young woman.  As he watched, Loki saw her reach out and lay a casual hand on his arm.  His lip curled into a snarl at the audacity, as if she had any right to touch what was _his_.  And Clint was making no effort to remove her hand, simply giving her an easy smile and a few words of reply.  
  
    Loki’s feeling of contentment was suddenly no where to be found.  He watched them talk, and as the conversation went on, the girl became more and more free with her touches.  Each time her hand lit on Clint’s arm, Loki’s jaw would clench, his teeth would grind, and his scowl would deepen.  His posture, as relaxed as it had been only moments before, was now tense as a coiling snake waiting to strike.  
  
    The fact that Clint had yet to notice his rage was telling in itself, so taken with this girl that he couldn’t spare even a glance Loki’s way.  
  
    This wasn’t something he could stand to watch.  He was well-aware that others might be drawn to his Hawk, there were countless ways in which he attracted people to him.  Seeing it play out in front of him, however, was too much for Loki to be able to tolerate.    
  
    Rising from his seat, he strode across the room, pointedly looking anywhere but at the pair of them.  The sound of her voice carried to him as he stalked towards the door, and he made an effort _not_ to be able to hear what she was saying.  It mattered not, it was clearly enough to hold Clint’s attention, so much so that the sight of the god making his exit went unnoticed until he passed within barely a foot of him.  
  
    Clint blinked and watched after him, the girl forgotten in an instant at the sight of his angry god striding through the front door.  He followed him, not so much as giving a parting word to the girl.  Looking around frantically, he caught sight of the god’s retreating back and jogged to catch up with him.  
  
    “Hold up, where you going?” he asked, taking hold of Loki’s arm above the elbow to get him to slow his stride.  
  
    “I felt the need to distance myself from the sickening display you were putting on,” Loki hissed, yanking his arm free and spearing Clint with a venomous glare.  
  
    Clint met his glare with such a look of confusion Loki almost felt sorry for lashing out.  “The hell… What, _her?_   You’re kidding, right?”  
  
    The silence that met that question, the set of Loki’s jaw, the furious gleam in his eye, was answer enough.  And that was enough to start the rolling anger in the pit of his stomach.  He matched Loki’s glare with one of his own and closed the gap between them until their chests were nearly brushing.  The height difference was negligible when Clint hit this kind of mood, and the few extra inches Loki had on him were only that much more distance between them.  Easily remedied.  
  
    The foot traffic this time of day was beginning to thin out, as people went about their working lives, but there were still too many watching eyes and listening ears for what Clint wanted to do and say, so he took Loki once more by the arm and steered him into the nearest alley.  
  
    Oh, and wasn’t _this_ a familiar scenario.  Nothing had changed since the last time they were here, right down to the almost-panicked anger Clint was feeling.  The only difference was that when he pushed Loki against the wall, Clint followed right after, pressing himself against the god’s body.  He could still feel the anger thrumming just beneath Loki’s skin, but this new turn had stunned him into silence.  
  
    “You think I want _her?_ ” Clint asked, is voice a low, growling whisper.  “You think that’s something I want after I’ve had _you?_ ”  
  
    With those words, Clint pressed his thigh between Loki’s legs, kicking them apart until he could bring their groins together.  He held Loki’s gaze as the god panted at the muted contact, looking down into his sniper’s eyes with a mixture of ire and lust.  
  
    “Would you not take what she so obviously offered?” Loki returned, firming his glare at the reminder of how shamelessly the girl had been accosting his Hawk.  If he could see it from across the room, he had no doubt Clint had known the girl’s intentions from the start.  
  
    Clint snarled at those words, pressing himself more firmly against the body pinned before him.  “If it was so _obvious_ , then you could see that I didn’t have the slightest interest in what she was offering.  Girls like that are a dime a dozen, and way more trouble than they’re worth.  I don’t want _that_.”    
  
    He ground his hips against Loki, letting him feel what his body was telling him.  “Feel this?” he asked, leaning in to growl in Loki’s ear.  “Think this is because of her?  Think anyone else can do this to me?”  A low, guttural moan left him and he latched on to the lobe of Loki’s ear as his hips began a slow, rolling rhythm.  
  
    Loki’s anger was banking itself quickly under the assault, Clint’s want of him dousing the flames as a bucket of water over a fire.  His hands clutched at his Hawk’s shoulders, anchoring himself as Clint worked his body to a level of arousal he rarely felt.  It was usually himself who instigated the lion’s share of their encounters; he wished for Clint’s touch at all times, it was rare he gave the archer the _chance_ to instigate anything.  
  
    This new dynamic, of Clint being the aggressor, was a refreshing change, and Loki’s anger quickly dissipated under the hungry stare of his Hawk.  
  
    “I should hope no one else inspires this level of wantonness in you,” he gasped, arching into the press of Clint’s body against his growing arousal.  “Perhaps I should not let you out of my sight from now on.”  
  
    “Oh, trust me, Princess, I’ve only _ever_ been this ‘wanton’ with you,” Clint said, nipping at the skin just below the god’s ear.  
  
    Loki’s breath hitched at the sting of teeth, then let out a shallow chuckle.  “I find that hard to believe,” he said with a teasing lilt to his voice.  “You are much too talented to be a stranger to this.”  
  
    “I don’t think I like your tone,” Clint muttered.  “You make it sound like I’d take anyone into a dark alley and have my way with them.”  
  
    Loki merely raised a sardonic eyebrow at his archer.  “Are you telling me this is the first time you have done such?”  
  
    Clint pulled Loki down by his shirt collar and growled, “Not having this discussion right now,” before sealing his mouth over the god’s, silencing that silver tongue for the moment.  
  
    Loki let him have his way, happy to simply have his Hawk’s attention once more.  The depth of his jealousy was surprising even to himself.  Though he knew it was merely his own insecurity causing him to see the worst of every situation, Loki realized now that it would take more than the passing admiration of a nameless mortal girl to turn Clint’s head.    
  
    Not when he could feel how very needy the other man was, his arousal pressing into Loki’s hip as he did his best to pull the very breath from his lungs.  No, that girl stood no chance, and even if she had managed to sway Clint to her side, there was no way she could handle all that Clint had to offer.  She could never give him what he needed, not the way Loki could.  His archer had even admitted as much on more than one occasion, of how he’d never been able to let himself go as completely as he could with Loki, he would break anyone else.  Now that he’d had a taste of his own unbridled lust, he would never be content with another mortal lover.  
  
    It gave the god a thrill of smug pleasure to know that he had effectively ruined his Hawk for anyone else.  
  
    Pulling back from their kiss, Clint groaned in frustration, letting his head fall to Loki’s shoulder as his hips stuttered to a halt.    
  
    “God damn it, I think I kind of hate you right now,” he panted, his hands gripping the god’s hips in frustration.  
  
    “What have I done _this_ time?” Loki asked with feigned petulance.  
  
    Clint pulled back to glare up at him, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with lust.  “I can’t fuck you in an alley in the middle of the day.”  
  
    “Can you not?”    
  
    The teasing lilt was back in his voice, and Clint looked at him askance.  “I don’t know how they deal with that kind of thing where you’re from, but it’s pretty illegal around here,” he said.  When Loki gave a twitch of his hips against Clint’s arousal, he groaned low in his throat before letting his forehead fall back against Loki’s shoulder.  
  
    “I do not see how we can be held answerable to a crime no one has witnessed,” Loki said against Clint’s ear.    
  
    A muttered phrase and a few passes of his hands brought a strange tingle to the back of Clint’s neck, and when he raised his head from Loki’s shoulder, he noticed everything had a strange, shimmering quality, as if he were underwater.  He blinked up at the god curiously.  
  
    “What did you just do?” he asked suspiciously.  
  
    Loki smirked down at him, leaning back against the wall and giving a lazy thrust of his hips.  “Merely a glamour,” he said.  “We will be neither seen nor heard until I lift it.  A useful trick, would you not agree?”  
  
    “Hell yes,” Clint groaned.  “So that means you _want_ me to fuck you in an alley?”  
  
    Loki’s hands slid into Clint’s hair, tilting his head back to meet his eyes.  “I want you in all ways, at all times, wherever you wish to have me, my Hawk.”  
  
    Clint’s hands began to roam, sliding beneath the hem of Loki’s shirt to brush against the smooth, firm planes of his lower belly.  “That’s good to know,” he said simply.  It always threw him off-balance when Loki stated his desire in such plain ways.  Some small part of him still had trouble believing this creature wanted him as badly as he so often said.  
  
    Well, there was proof of just how much Loki wanted him right now, and it was prodding his own proof very insistently.  He wasted no more time in getting his hands on Loki’s body, and the god soon found himself without his jacket, shirt, and his pants half-undone.  Clint mouthed at the skin of Loki’s throat, licking across the pale column of his neck, leaving bite marks and bruises in his wake as he went lower, across his collar bone and down his chest.  A gasp fell from the god’s mouth when he latched onto a nipple and closed his teeth over the sensitive flesh.  The fingers in Clint’s hair suddenly gripped tightly, holding him in place as he gave Loki the pain-spiked pleasure he craved so desperately.  
  
    His hands were not idle, stroking over the quaking muscles of his abdomen, then lower, one hand sliding inside the open front of his pants as the other held him firmly against the wall.  Loki keened and tossed his head back against the wall when Clint’s fingers closed around his insistent length, the high, sharp sound spiralling into a broken wail when his palm twisted over the leaking crown at the same moment his teeth drove firmly into the peaked flesh of his nipple.    
  
    “This,” he panted as Clint tunneled his fingers around the god’s cock and began a slow, teasing rhythm.  “This is why I long for your touch, Clint.  You know all the ways in which I wish to be broken.”  Another shuddering gasp left him when Clint tightened his fingers around him.  
  
    “Haven’t even started yet, Princess,” Clint muttered against Loki’s heaving chest.  He licked a slow path upwards, along the hard line of his sternum, pausing only a moment to nip at the skin just above Loki’s thundering pulse.    
  
    He had to admit, it got to him to hear the god’s praise in that breathy, gasping voice, the evidence of his arousal hard and throbbing in his grasp.  The rhythm of his pulse was addicting, and Clint lapped at the skin of his throat just to feel it against his tongue.  As much as Loki wanted him, Clint wanted Loki just as much.  He’d completely forgotten the girl that had inadvertently started this whole encounter, and even if he had remembered her, it was Loki his body was thrumming for.  He wasn’t this desperately hard for anyone else, couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted anyone this badly.  There really was no going back for him, now;  Loki had gotten under his skin, there was no getting him out, not without cutting something vital from himself.  
  
    All of those thoughts skidded to a halt when he felt the god’s hands on him, wandering beneath the hem of his shirt to feel the skin of his belly.  He felt nails scratching lightly at the faint scars littering his torso, dancing over the fading bruises he never could seem to go without collecting.  When a thumb brushed lightly over a nipple, Clint snarled and pulled back just enough to lose his own shirt and jacket.  
  
    Loki’s eyes raked over his Hawk’s body, nearly purring at the sight of that strong, broad chest bared just for him.  Clint crowded him back against the wall, the rough texture of the brick digging into his back.  He found himself hoping to have a new collection of wounds from that very wall as his Hawk pressed him into it over and over as he surged up and into him.    
  
    With that impetus in mind, Loki’s hands dropped to Clint’s belt, deftly unbuckling it and tugging the front of his pants open.  Clint’s eyes rose to meet the desperate, needy gaze of his god and smirked.  
  
    “Getting impatient?” he asked, his own hand diving back inside Loki’s pants to resume the slow torture, pumping Loki’s cock in a slow, teasing way that had the god biting back his whimpers.  
  
    “I am always impatient to feel you straining beneath my touch,” Loki panted as his hand finally made its way inside, finding Clint already hard and leaking for him.  
  
    Clint loosed a growling moan and bucked his hips into Loki’s fist.  It was getting harder for him to hold out, he didn’t think he could take much more of this teasing and taunting.  
  
    When Loki paired his next teasing stroke with a lip-biting whimper, Clint knew he was at the end of his control.  He pulled his hand from within the confines of Loki’s pants and tugged them down his hips.  Loki seemed to smirk, giving Clint one last harsh squeeze before tugging Clint’s own pants down, freeing his cock from the confining material.  Clint cared very little about Loki’s smugness; let him smirk all he wanted, he’d earned at least that much with how quickly he’d brought Clint to this point.  
  
    There would be no careful preparation, no soothing words whispered into shell-pink ears;  Clint was bound and determined to _ruin_ his god, and Loki was just as determined to take all Clint had to give and _still_ beg for more.  
  
    “Hope you’re ready for me,” he growled as he stooped down to hook Loki’s legs over his arms.  “Might wanna do that little trick of yours, Princess.  This is gonna be quick and dirty.”  
  
    Loki grinned down at him, his arms twining around his Hawk’s shoulders to hold himself upright.  “Oh, I am _more_ than ready for you,” he said in that low, rumbling growl that never failed to send shivers up Clint’s spine.  “Do not hold back for my sake; give me everything.”  
  
    A whispered incantation floated in the air between them, and suddenly Clint felt the god’s opening slicked and ready, and without so much as a beat of pause, Clint slid home in one smooth thrust.  Loki’s head fell back against he wall with a gasping moan, and Clint felt his heat clench around him, pulling him in greedily.  He muffled a curse against the heated skin of the god’s throat as he bucked up into that tight grasp and let Loki’s weight carry him down until he was seated firmly, as deep as he could go.  He felt the other man’s pulse throbbing in time with his own before he began a steady, relentless rhythm.  
  
    This was not meant to be a long, drawn-out tryst; it was exactly as it seemed, a quick, desperate rutting of two bodies determined to prove how much they wanted each other.  Clint wanted to leave no doubt in Loki’s mind that he wanted no one else but him, would be content with nothing less than this.  He wanted to feel the hard line of Loki’s arousal trapped between them, gaining blessed friction against the firm press of their bellies; feel the desperate clutching of strong fingers into his flesh; hear the growls and groans and panting gasps as he found the perfect angle to hit that spot deep inside, the one that made the god swear and curse and whimper and moan like a whore.  
  
    “Mine,” he gasped, his burning gaze holding Loki’s own.  “Just want you, Loki.  Don’t ever fucking forget that.”  And with that, he let his hips move unchecked, pounding up into the pliant, willing body pinned before him.  
  
    Loki let his voice out in a wailing sob as Clint reaffirmed his claim.  He never had actually questioned Clint’s want of him, he knew the archer was oblivious to all others but him when it came to his affections, but hearing him say it, feeling his body staking its claim all over again drove him dangerously close to the edge.  The sheer want and lust and needy desperation of Clint’s claim, the way he took Loki’s body over and made it sing for him… there was no question of how much the archer desired him.  
  
    “Yours, my Hawk,” Loki affirmed, clutching tighter even as he felt the heat pooling low in his belly begin to spread.  He buried his face against the side of Clint’s neck and panted.  “Always yours.  As you are mine.”  
  
    Clint loosed a rumbling groan and snapped his hips faster, harder, deeper into the clenching heat of his god, dragging them both closer to their end.  He could feel Loki was close; his body was trembling, he was tightening around his cock, his breath was hitching, cries spiraling higher until that little gasp, that quiet little,  
  
    “ _Oh.._.”   
  
    And then he felt that heat between them as he tightened almost painfully around his length, fingers digging bruises into Clint’s shoulders as he trembled and shook.  Clint rode him through the tremors of his release, urging him higher, wringing every bit of pleasure he could from the god, until he was panting and whimpering and gasping against Clint’s mouth.  
  
    “Please, my Hawk,” he pleaded, fingers sliding into his hair to keep his gaze locked.  “Spill inside me.  Fill me with your heat, mark me, claim me.  _Please!_ ”  
  
    Clint saw no reason to hold back, not with Loki begging so shamelessly.  It took only a handful of thrusts, and then Clint was holding Loki tight to him, biting down on his shoulder to muffle his cries as he spilled within him.  He pressed the god harder into the wall, pinning him in place as his hips stuttered and writhed, until he had the taste of blood in his mouth and Loki’s gasp in his ears.    
  
    When his body finally released him from its throes, Clint pulled back, swiping his tongue over the seeping wound he’d left in the god’s pale flesh.  Loki hummed contentedly and petted his fingers through Clint’s hair, nearly purring at the sated thrum filling his body now that it was reminded of his Hawk’s claim.  When Clint lowered his legs to the ground, Loki stood and pulled the shorter man against him, letting him slump his weight against his taller frame until he’d gotten his breath back.  
  
    After a few moments, Clint muttered against Loki’s chest.  “Please tell me that little magic trick of yours is still working.”  
  
    Loki’s mouth curved into an amused smile as he looked about.  Of course his glamour was still in place, he was much too skilled with his sorcery to let it fall in the midst of even such a mindless rutting.  
  
    “You fear being caught out?” he teased.  “I should think you would be proud to have your claim over me so publicly announced.”  
  
    “You and I have very different ideas about pride,” Clint muttered.  “So you still jealous?”  
  
    Loki sniffed with unconcern and shifted his weight, reminding Clint that they were still covered in the evidence of their coupling.  “What have I to be jealous of?”  
  
    “Right,” Clint agreed.  “That’s settled.  Now, I think you should clean us up so we can get our fucking coffee already.”  
  
    There was a brief moment of silence as Loki realized he had quite forgotten why they were out to begin with.  He decided to keep that bit of information to himself; if Clint knew he was able to distract Loki from his coffee, he would never again have a moment’s peace.


End file.
